Worth It
by CatherineA
Summary: Julian and Emma are a prime example of parabatai. But can one evening beach visit change that completely?


**Hi! So, I already can't wait for **_**The Dark Artifices**_**, and I already ship Jemma! And I know Cassandra Clare mentioned Emma's fear of water, so this is what came of it. Enjoy! (Reviews are lovely!)**

** Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

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"Jules, please say you're almost done," I say, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes tightly. I can almost feel the water swallowing me up, pulling me under. Well, except for the fact that so far the water hasn't so much as skimmed my fingers, which are clenched into fists on the sand.

"Relax, Em. Loosen up your muscles. How am I supposed to paint you if you're practically curled up into a ball on the sand?"

"I am not," I say indignantly. I do, however, lean back on my palms and (reluctantly) straighten my legs out in front of me. I think about the moon, stars, and porch lights of the nearby beach houses – the only light Jules has to paint by.

"Close your eyes. Listen to the waves. Relax."

"I don't think you understand, Jules. I hate this. I'd much rather be about as far from this ocean as possible right now."

"I'll take it as a testament of your undying love for me."

I'm about to snap back when I hear the crash of the waves much closer to my toes than they were a few minutes ago. The tide is coming in. _Breathe_, I remind myself. _This is not the time for another attack._

I actually haven't had one of the panic attacks in a while - since the nightmares a few months back. (Always the same – a dark, bottomless ocean; the sound of my parents' cries echoing in the distance.) Every attack is the same: I can't breathe. I'm dizzy, sweating, losing control.

Jules, as far as I know, is the only one who knows about them.

_He's sitting right behind me_, I remind myself. _Not ten feet away. I'm fine_. And yet I keep my eyes tightly closed. I imagine Julian now, sitting crossed legged on the sand with his canvas set up in front of him. He'll have his paints in a semicircle around him, and he'll be concentrating so hard that he'll get that weird wrinkle in his forehead.

Another wave breaks, even closer to me this time. I can almost see the water rushing rushing rushing up to meet me, and then receding once more into the darkness. My breathing quickens.

"Jules," I hiss.

"Okay, Emma. Let me just fill in this section. Then I'm done, I promise."

I resist the urge to whimper – Shadowhunters don't whimper. And yet each wave seems to inch farther and farther towards me, and I want to scream. Because I may be able to singlehandedly fight off three Shax demons in the middle of the streets of LA, but I don't do water. Not anymore.

Now I want to jump up and run as far from the place as I can before I'm in full blown panic mode. _Just a few more minutes_, I tell myself. _For Jules_.

Before I can even hear the warning sound of water rushing in, a wave breaks near the shore, sending water rushing halfway up my legs.

I cry out and stumble to my feet and away from the water, my breath coming too quick, the world spinning too fast.

"Emma!"

Suddenly I feel a pair of hands grabbing me at the elbows and pressing my arms to my sides, steadying me. It's Julian.

"Emma," he says. "Emma, breathe. Please, I'm sorry. Oh, Angel, why didn't I listen to you?"

"I – I can't- " I gasp. _Where is all the air_?

The hands that grip my elbows pull me in and surround me. It's Julian, and I'm safe. I press my forehead into his shoulder, focusing on taking deep, even breaths. It takes a few minutes, but my breathing slowly returns to normal. And embarrassment sinks in.

I pull away, my cheeks red. _Some Shadowhunter I am_.

"This has nothing to do with your Shadowhunting skill, Em."

_Crap. Did I say that out loud_? I look up at Julian, who faces me with concern on his face.

I keep my back facing away from the dark ocean.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you when you said you wanted to go. Some parabatai I am."

I shake my head and force a smile. "It's not your fault I'm a big baby, Jules," I say, hoping to lighten the mood. Instead, Julian's frown deepens.

"The water basically ruined your life, Emma. You're far from being a baby," he says softly. He's looking at me differently now, and I don't know what to say. So I say nothing.

Julian takes a step closer to me, and I can see each individual fleck of color in his eyes. Slowly, he reaches out a hand to my cheek. My breath quickens again, but not from fear this time. Some part of my brain is screaming at me to stop this, that it's far from allowed.

But I ignore it.

And then Julian leans in and touches his lips to mine. It's soft at first, and I'm stunned. But then I'm kissing him back, and he makes some sort of sound of relief. He brings his other hand around to my back and I curl my fingers in his soft hair.

And as suddenly as the kiss began, it is over.

We pull back and stare at each other for a moment, at a loss for words. The phrase running around in my head goes something like _What have we done?_

A loud crashing sound breaks us from our trace, and we whip our heads around to see Julian's supplies go toppling into the water. A wave begins to sweep them away.

Julian curses and sprints across the small stretch of sand, gathering his painting and as much of his supplies into his arms as possible. I know I should help, but I still can't bring myself to enter the ocean.

Julian dumps what he is able to salvage at my feet, and even I can tell that it's all ruined – the painting included. I open my mouth to apologize, but Julian beats me to it.

"It can be replaced. Even the painting," he says. He hesitates, and then adds with a small smile, "I think it was worth it."

I let out a short burst of laughter.

_What have we gotten ourselves in to?_


End file.
